


Spare the Fear, Spoil the Child

by A185160



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: (kind of), And yes I think each fear has their own personality, Bullying, Canon-Typical Behavior, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Maxwell Rayner getting dunked on, Not Exactly a Fluff Story but we may get a little, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parent-Child Relationship, Playing with backstories, The timeline can fight me, Violence, the fears - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:15:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26369323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A185160/pseuds/A185160
Summary: An exploration of the children of The Fears.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 26





	1. Callum Brodie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We begin with the Dark - a fear that is long overdue for a child cause it got stuck with Rayner's crusty ass for centuries.

Callum Brodie doesn’t like the dark. But The Dark likes Callum Brodie. He is new, he is young, his fear is a refreshing contrast to the stale fear of routine and ritual It is used to. The boy tries to resist, that’s the best part. The old man and his followers embrace their fear. They worship it, try to amplify it, to serve darkness itself. They don’t understand. They never have, and now they never will. 

But Callum Brodie? He understands. He knows fear, and in a deep, dark place, he likes to cause the fear in others. If The Dark could be pleased, it would be. 

He sits in a dark closet as his mother fights with her parents over an experience they cannot explain. The boy’s hands are over his ears and he rocks back and forth, alone. “I’m not afraid of the dark. I’m not. I’m not!” He repeats the mantra, as though he can make it true by simply wishing for it to go away. 

The Dark begins to whisper then. “But you are afraid, aren’t you Callum?” It doesn’t have words the way some of the others do. But there are a hundred whispers in the dark. Wind through the trees, unseen water lapping at the shore, the rustlings of animals - sounds that are amplified and reflected without any light to guide them. 

It is with these that the Dark speaks to Callum Brodie. 

“The others have abandoned you here in the darkness. This, this is where I am Callum. It is where I reside.” It coils around the boy's ankles, plunging the closet into the depths of blackness. 

The light from the crack under the door pulses weakly, but it is not strong enough. In the face of Callum’s fear the light succumbs to The Dark. “Would you like to join me here Callum?” 

The voices fade away, the argument peters out. A moment of silence, then Callum flings the closet door open and flees. 

The Dark settles there. A small patch, the place where the light doesn’t reach. And it waits. 

Callum Brodie begs his mother to switch rooms. To move, to let him sleep in the basement, to go somewhere, anywhere else. She tells him not to be ridiculous, “there’s no monster in your closet Callum, look I’ll show you.” 

She opens the door. She thinks the Darkness in the back of the closet is natural. “See? Nothing to be afraid of. Now be a good boy and go to bed.” Callum wishes his mother a goodnight and climbs into bed. He still believes adults know best. That they are infallible, unable to make mistakes. 

The Dark waits. Waits until Caroline Brodie is fast asleep but her son is still clutching his covers to his chin, begging for sleep that will not come. 

It swarms out from under the door, creeps across the floor, then slowly, slowly, ever so slowly up the bed. A movement then, and the room is plunged into full darkness. The light from the hall flickers, then dies. 

Callum whimpers. His fear, delicious, powerful, all-consuming fear, fills the room. His eyes fill with unshed tears.  
“Please bring back the light.” 

A dry laugh, wind rushing through an empty field. “Don’t you see? Don’t you see?” 

The Dark revels in the fear. Many children fear the dark, but few are marked by it beyond adulthood. And if they are, they are fools who do not understand.  
The Dark does not exist in spite of the light.  
The Dark exists because of the light. 

Callum Brodie understands this. He doesn’t know it yet, but with time, with time he will. He asks for the light in the face of the power of The Dark. Callum Brodie pulls the cover over his head and sobs. His mother does not wake. The Dark recedes into the closet. 

The next night is much the same. The Dark observes and slowly, slowly, Callum hides less and less. He peeks out from under his covers before diving back under. He is still afraid, but it is a developing fear, a more complex fear. A fear that Callum tries to share, but also jealously protects. He begins shoving the other children into The Dark’s embrace. He dares Jack into a dark utility closet, pushes Kaitlyn into the dirt, locks Luka in a closet. At the zenith of their fear Callum Brodie lets them out. He laughs, makes them think they are silly and small. He can feel it then, the power that comes from their despair. It feeds the slowly developing bond between Darkness and boy. 

In another place The Dark watches as other disciples in other places try and fail to give It form. There was some satisfaction in their fear as they failed, and the sacrifices, looked in boxes, launched into space. Enough to even reveal part of Itself, but their efforts were blank and useless. They turn up the shell of fear, but none of the substance. Callum Brodie’s fear is much more fulfilling. 

And one day, one day it is glorious. His mother is not home as Callum Brodie turns off the light and opens his closet door. 

Before he had opened it, grabbed whatever article of clothing was closest and ran. Or he had his mother grab something, and that was almost worse, her indifference and annoyance overriding her son’s fear. The Dark had considered taking her, to heighten the fear, but she would not be a satisfying meal. At least, not until she lost some of that desperation for ‘normality’ or ‘stability.’ It could help Callum come to his full power, but it could also break him apart. So The Dark waited. And It is glad, an emotion that surprises It, that It did. 

When the boy opens his closet door the Dark rises up to meet him. It ebbs away from that useless old fool, no doubt he thinks the patron is displeased, but It has no such feelings. Rayner has long been dancing on empty strings. There was just nothing else, no other worshippers, only the stale fear of children and the scorn of teenagers to feast on. 

Callum steps into the Dark, reaching out. He is curious, but the undercurrents of fear, his, and all that he has caused lap at the edge of his consciousness. The Dark would smile if it was capable of such a thing. 

And then the door breaks down as Rayner and two of his cult storm in. The man himself stares at the boy, anger erupting from every part of his mind, overwhelming even the fear he had carried for centuries. 

“How dare you?” He spits at Callum Brodie. “How dare you take my place in our god’s favor? You a child? A mere child compared to my hundreds of years of service, you dare?” 

He grabs the boy, stabs him with a needle, and Callum Brodie hits the ground, unconscious. The Dark knows what Rayner plans to do. It is unacceptable. And for once, for once, The Dark lifts. It allows the neighbor to see, an action totally against Its existence, unthinkable, unheard of - and yet - yet it will be allowed for Its child. 

For that is what Callum Brodie has become. 

The Dark cannot go entirely against Its nature. There is a struggle when officers, Agents of Another - Hunters - arrive. It must combat the light in any way it can. Some die. They have a cursory fear, old childhood traumas stirred awake. It gives The Dark some power, just enough. 

It pushes at the light, moving the officers, guiding them. Bringing them to the place Rayner has planned to take over, has let his hatred and bitterness consume him. Had the old man been in another state of mind he may have been able to wait for the right time and Callum Brodie would be lost. But his jealousy is in control and he is convinced that if he can just take over, if he can take the body, the power will follow. 

Had the Hunters not killed him The Dark would. As soon as Rayner was vulnerable in a new body, he would have found himself surrounded and crushed by Darkness. Callum Brodie would be gone, but his memory, his revenge, would not. 

But that is not necessary. Shots ring out while Rayner is at his most pathetic. He is gone, the child is safe. The Dark is content. 

It must wait until the Hunters are gone. It must wait until Caroline has reassured herself that her son is safe.

But that’s alright. It is alright, because once they are all gone and Callum is sent to bed he stands. He walks to the hall and switches the light off. Callum Brodie opens the closet door and walks with open arms into the Darkness in the back. The place where the light does not reach. The Dark surges up to welcome the son home. 

That is why when The Change comes Callum Brodie is ready. He smiles with a face thrown into shadow as the world changes. The other children watch, trembling and afraid. Their parents are gone or sleeping. But don't they see? It is time to play. Time to run, time to slip, time to hide and go seek. The sun has gone down forever, and now, now they can finally stay out past Dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter one is complete! Can you guess who (and what) come next?


	2. Julia Montauk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We move onto The Hunt - a fear with many children. (I am 100% on board for Avatars of the Hunt as werewolves, love that)

Julia Montauk is rather young for The Hunt’s taste. The little ones don’t tend to survive long without the pack. 

She is claimed by another as well. The Dark wants her. It follows her through the corners she hides in, in the foster homes she is pushed through. 

Her father was not fully Dark but he was not a Hunter either, at least not entirely. He took no joy in it, the thrill of the chase, the joy of the kill. He’s worth a quick sniff, but nothing more. There were plenty of others to focus on, to imbue with power and control. 

Yet there is something about the daughter that intrigues. She is a Lone Wolf, dependent on none but herself. Moving, constantly hunting something new. She may emerge from isolation now and again, attempts to find a pack, a mate, pups, but time and time again she is driven away. 

And she speaks to It. Julia believes she is speaking to herself, discussing her hopes and dreams and fears. “I just don’t understand. All they want to know about is my father!”

Her anger feeds The Hunt. It listens, silently slips around her legs. It cannot speak, only growl on occasion. And now is not the time for that. It can do other things though. Julia begins to push back against the other children. She snaps at the men and women who try to use her to ‘get into the mind of a serial killer.’

The Hunt gets great joy directing some of Its other children their way. The men and women die running through the dark woods, the dark streets, the dark hallways. His children are ready to defend their new sister. After all she provides such delicious prey. 

Eventually Julia stops trying to make connections. Yet she still speaks to The Hunt. She’s not a hunter, not yet, but she is - she is getting there. All she requires is some guidance. An older hunter then. Perhaps another Lone Wolf would be well received. She was close to her own father despite everything. Perhaps….not a replacement per se, but it’s not unusual for an older hunter to take in a younger one. There is more safety in numbers. 

There is another Hunter nearby and a Lone Wolf at that! His name is Trevor Herbert and he’s been with The Hunt for years. He was another young child, taken in when his own pack fell. It’s almost too perfect to pass up. All it takes is a nudge. 

They need to chase off the children of The Dark. Julia belongs to The Hunt, they will NOT take her. Trevor Herbert will help her see the way to properly hunt. He is kept alive by The Hunt as long as he continues, but It cannot stop him from becoming weak. Two Lone Wolves stand a better chance together than on their own. 

They are working together, hunting together. The Hunt is proud of their tiny pack, feels a rush of joy every time they take down another's manifestation, even when they take on their own brothers and sisters. More often than not those fights end in a draw and The Hunt can revel in the strength and cleverness of Its children. 

They find what remains of a child of The Eye and The Hunt laughs as the book is used in Its service. It never had much use for physical artifacts, too heavy, not enough action, unable even to run. It does not like The Eye. It stays away when The Watcher’s Child speaks. 

And when another child of The Eye appears, greater and marked by one of his own, The Hunt cringes away. Part of being a good hunter is knowing the limitations of the pack. The Hunt can aid Its children, can reduce their own limitations, but not here. Not now. It does not want to be caught in The Eye’s glare. Part of a good hunt is the element of surprise, of stealth. 

The Eye’s Child leaves and takes his brother with him and The Hunt is relieved. It tries to keep The Lone Wolves where they are. They have no business there, in a Stronghold of The Eye. 

But pups are stubborn. They have caught the scent and they have a desire to prove themselves. To prove Its dominance over The Eye. The Hunt would almost be flattered by Its children’s faith if It were not so worried for them. 

It follows as they cross the sea. Not much of a hunt beneath the waves, but there are creatures, the ones that disappear into the depths. They provide the Hunt with fear and suffering just as their brethren on land do. It is enough. 

The Lone Wolves find The Eye. It’s hard to miss. The Hunt’s never understood The Eye’s need to sequester itself. Prey will run and Hunters will chase. Occasionally they will exchange roles. That is all anyone should ever need to know. 

Its children do not need any of The Eyes fancy perks or powers. They are resourceful and quick. They navigate the tunnels with only their noses, no need for fancy books or magic knowledge. The Hunt observes as they use only their Hunt-given sense of smell to track. 

But there are too many children down here. Hunters, Strangers, Watchers. They jumble together in a mix and the Hunt realizes suddenly that another daughter is here. One of Its own, in service of The Eye. 

It is angry. A Strong Wolf, leashed to an Eye. She is strong, a fighter, leader of her own pack. She could be so much and do so much, but here she is, defending an Eye. 

The Lone Wolves forget their first prey in the face of one of their own. Julia is the first to run, the young ones are always more impulsive. She knocks the Strong Wolf over and they take off through the tunnels, neck in neck, more animal than human as they crash together and apart. The old one falls behind, weakened by a slash at his legs. 

The Hunt watches with some interest as Its children circle each other. One lunges, the other snaps back. They have stopped for this fight. Neither want to make the first move, but both are ready for the other’s mistake. 

They collide suddenly in a slash of teeth, claws, and rage. The Hunt watches, but cannot interfere in a fight between its children. They must work out their differences on their own. 

Julia fights for as long as she can, but she has not had her opponent's level of experience, of training, of running alongside The Hunt day after day, year after year, pushed along and given leisure by an entire pack. A pack that is vicious, with claws and teeth hidden just behind a thin veneer of bureaucracy. Julia is at heart a Lone Wolf. She had a companion, but she left him behind to protect the pack on her own. 

Their differences are resolved when the Strong Wolf rips the Lone Wolf’s throat out. 

The Hunt should continue. The Hunt should move on to another prey or it will cease to exist. 

But perhaps It can spare a moment for a child that belonged to the pack. After all, pack is built on bonds. Bonds of the hunt, bonds of fear, and yet bonds of protection and camaraderie as well. 

The Lone Wolf lies on the ground, alive for now. Yet she fades fast. The Hunt knows this. There are two sides to every hunt, the hunter and the hunted. Predator and Prey. Both fears - fear of capture, blood and gore, fear of death and destruction - fear of not being able to capture, the pack going hungry, fear of death and destruction - they feed The Hunt. 

It settles, just for a moment, curled around Its child. She is scared. The Hunt wishes she wasn’t so scared. It is strange, an entity that relies on fear, wishing for a little less fear in the world. Her blood spills onto the dark concrete, far from the natural forests and woods that are Its home. Her breathing slows, slows then stops. The Hunt has seen this many times. But it is different here. This is Its pup. 

The Lone Wolf’s hunt has ended. She is in another domain now. One beyond even Its reach. Maybe she is happy. Maybe she can rest. The Hunt hopes, however it can feel such things, that wherever she is, she is able to run and hunt without fear. 

Then It stands, shakes away her blood, and trots away. Change is in the air. There are other children running free, and It in particular has a man, no longer a Hunter to deal with. He abandoned the pack. Fell behind. Couldn’t protect the pup. But there is still a use for him. He will provide excellent sport for the other children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we go! I'm very excited to write the next part!


End file.
